


I'm Glad I'm Yours

by ASignificantWhisper



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Family Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASignificantWhisper/pseuds/ASignificantWhisper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always something going on in the Milkovich household... Even after all these years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Glad I'm Yours

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is some drabble of an idea I came up with. Thought it would be cute. It’s Mickey trying to console his and Ian’s daughter after she reveals that she’s gay. Note : Yev is 20, Lucy is 15. The grammar is kind of sloppy. I'm in need of a beta reader, as I'm a little rusty, obviously. This briefly touches the topic of what Terry did to Mickey, Ian, and Svetlana in season 3.

“I can’t do this, man… Just pick one. Oh, Jesus Christ,” Mickey barks back, running a hand through his dark hair, resting his back against the counter.

“This was your idea this time instead of canned goods, remember, Indiana Jones?” Ian is smirking that Ian Gallagher smirk as he stares back at his husband of nearly thirteen years.

“That was ONE time. One fucking time, Gallagher–”

“Milkovich,” Ian corrects rather cheekily, wiggling his left hand, that gold band catching the light proudly.

“You’re a Gallagher when I want nothing to do with your ass, so it’s Gallagher right now.”

“You know you just insulted my family, your in laws, right? Fucking animal.” Ian is teasing, his voice light and airy. Mickey Milkovich could loose his cool, insult everything near and dear to Ian, but the younger man would still find it humorous enough to mention at every holiday dinner.

Mickey just shakes his head with an irritated sigh escaping his lips. “One Halloween I dress up for my son and I will never live it down.”

“Not just one, but who’s counting, hmm?” Ian makes the decision for his husband, tossing the corn flakes into the square container that lay atop their kitchen counter.

Ah, the fall food drive. Every year since Yevgeny had turned six, Ian always insisted they donate food to the local youth center. Then every Thanksgiving and Christmas he would get Mickey and Yevgeny, and they would both help him serve dinner on both holidays after their own annual family dinner combos. That is until a fourth guest joined them down the line. When they left the Southside after Mickey’s house got sold, they opted for a decent city place closer to their respective jobs.

But Ian always felt this inclined need to give back. It was one of the many traits Mickey admired in his partner. It only seemed to continue to peak several years after Ian became comfortable with his life, finally adjusting somewhat to his illness. He could never fully adjust, but Mickey was proud that Ian was back to a place he was accepting himself in again.

Muffled voices and loud shouts cause both men to look up towards the front door. In first came the fourth addition, her fiery red hair making an entrance before she did. The young woman slung her patched messenger bag to the couch, throwing herself back against it, putting up a hand when her dark haired brother attempted to talk to her. “Luce, c'mon. Please?”

“The fuck did you do to her?” Mickey is the first one up, a sharp brow raised at his son Yevgeny Milkovich, who now towered him in height. But as Mickey glances at the fuming red head on the couch he turns back to his son. “Better yet, the hell did she do to you?”

“Nothing, dad. Fucking christ,” Yev crosses his arms tight, the muscles flexing in his forearms, his tone going slack.

“Mick, chill. Let him talk.” Ian sounds off briefly, giving their son a soft smile, and is then beside the couch where the spitting image of himself sat with angry tears brimming her eyes up. Okay, now Mickey was worried. She was crying. She never cried like this. Never had those typical hissy bitchy tantrum fits. When Mickey looks up at Yevgeny, the boy’s eyes are softening. He tilts his head towards the kitchen island where Mickey follows him to.

No longer than they’re out of earshot of Luce and Ian, Mickey is frantically going over whose ass he needed to kick. But he’s interrupted by a loud cry before Yevgeny can answer, his head snapping at attention in the living room as the fourth addition, his and Ian’s daughter Lucy Milkovich shoves her father’s shoulder and buries her face into her hands. She’s sobbing now. Full on panic attack sobs that make Mickey want to take her into his arms and take all of that shit away. Bruise the fuckers at fault for this. It was like someone had ejected his lungs and crushed them under a dead weight. His little girl was in pain. He hated this. He couldn’t deal with it. Even when Yevgeny was upset it just made Mickey feel so powerless.

Mickey’s first instincts were to punch first, never ask later. Svetlana and Ian both had to help Mickey realize that not everything could be fixed that way. Especially if it were a fever at four in the morning. No, this required a new instinct from Mickey Milkovich. He had to talk, console his children. That reversed their pain more than a knuckle cracking a stranger’s jaw.

Ian looks taken back, those eyes of his dimming to a sadness of his own. He hated seeing their baby girl in pain just as much as Mickey. Ian starts a slow circle rub over Lucy’s back when the sobs start to get caught in her throat, causing her to hyperventilate. Ian is just there, crouched down, talking to her.

“What. The. Fuck?” Is Mickey’s cautious whisper to his son.

Yevgeny unfolds his arms and shoves his hands into his pockets. “You need to talk to her. I promised I wouldn’t say. Even though you and dad would be the last ones on earth to be pissed at her. Even then I know you wouldn’t. But uncle Iggy opened his dumbass mouth and now she’s freaked…”

“Over what? Yev, she’s about to have a fuckin’ heart attack over there. And the car is in the shop and it’ll take for-fuckin’-ever to walk to the Southside to beat Iggy’s ass.” Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose before a wave of anxiety over takes him. He’s over to Lucy, whom is now leaning against Ian.

“Yo, over there with your son and keep him occupied, mumbles,” Mickey interjects, using his knee to bump one of Lucy’s. “Scooch over, Daphne.”

Lucy complies without much objection, looking away from Mickey, looking so small as she fumbles with her charm bracelet. When Mickey speaks next, his voice is calm but firm, tapping a finger under her chin. “Hey, none of that shit. Talk to your old man. You know the drill. Can’t crack a skull without a name. And you can’t give a name when you’re being a mute.”

Lucy’s only response is to shake her head, wiping her fingers roughly underneath her eyes. Mickey sighs inwardly, his teeth gnawing the edge of his lip. The worry was getting to him. She was at the Southside to visit her uncle and a few friends from school that she studied with. Yevgeny was to pick her up and bring her home. What could’ve happened between those few hours? His mind was going haywire. Mickey has to look to Ian to draw in his own source of calm. What shocks them all next is Lucy’s sudden outburst after her stubborn silence.

She stands up, flips her messy red bun, turns her green eyes directly on her family, blows a rogue strand of red hair out of her face and that’s when she says it. “I’m fuckin’ gay.”

Mickey’s brows raise, his eyes wide. Ian’s eyes are widening, his lips part to let out a sentence but it gets caught. Not only was her announcement a shock, but it was a mirroring flashback to when Mickey himself had came out at the Alibi all those years ago. Yevgeny claps slowly, a pleased smile spreading across his lips as he moves to gently hold onto his sister. She accepts the comfort, his words of Russian stating he was proud of her, Mickey notes.

“Jesus, either you two really don’t know teenage girls, or you’re more clueless than I gave you credit for,” Yevgeny chuckles, not leaving his sister’s side. “I mean it’s not like she hides it. And not all lesbians own sleeveless shirts like you, dad.” He’s looking pointedly at Mickey with his amusement, Lucy finally letting out that sweet giggle that makes them all visibly relax.

Ian, whom Mickey sees step forward and engulf their daughter, rearing back to press a kiss to her cheek, has pride written all over his features. But Mickey is confused. Why was she scared? Why would she be this worked up over coming out? Yeah, it was a little bit of a shock but her parents were a full fucking pride parade. Even her biological mom Svetlana was in a relationship with a women, currently. Then it hits him…

“Tell me what Iggy said, now. Leave anything out and I’ll drive you to school on Monday dressed as Vladimir from Twilight.”

Everyone in the room cringes as an automatic response.

“Dude, the fact that you even know him by name is embarrassing, pop. That movie is ancient anyways,” Yevgeny states, sharing a look with Ian.

“Okay, okay. Fuck. Don’t bust a brain cell, dad.”

“Language.” Ian reprimands, causing them all to snort. They were half Milkovich, half Gallagher after all. Swearing was the most normal thing their kids picked up on.

The humor dies down yet again, Lucy going slightly pale. And this is when Mickey can read his daughter like an open book. He feels his stomach bottom out into his intestines. His mouth goes dry. “He fucking didn’t…”

“He overheard her talking to her girlfriend, was kinda stoned so he just shot his mouth off. I popped him for it but I don’t think he’ll remember in the morning. He didn’t mean to, dad,” Yevgeny finishes.

“What?” Ian’s voice is rising now, that haunted panic casting a shadow across his unshaven features.

“Iggy told her about what Terry did to us. Scared the fuck outta her,” Mickey answers, a painful dullness to his voice. They had told the kids that Yev had been born into a less than ideal situation, Yev learning the truth sometime ago. Lucy too. But what their daughter never knew was about that moment beforehand that led to Yev’s birth. She knew her grandfather was a monster, but this, Svetlana, Ian and Mickey had agreed to keep from her until she was a little older.

Ian’s features fall almost catastrophically, a lump forming in his throat.

Lucy is lightening fast now. “No, no. Fuck no. See, Yev? I didn’t want you to tell them he told me, because then they would think it was their fault I didn’t say anything. Fucking thanks, jerk dick.” Lucy sounds in more pain than before, shying away from Mickey.

It causes Mickey to gaze over at Yev, to Ian, then back again.

“Okay, Luce,” Yev breathes out in understanding. “to clarify, she was scared that telling you guys would bring up all this homophobic shit from the assclowns in the Southside, from school. She didn’t want to stir anything up or disappoint you.”

“It made more sense in my head. That I was protecting you guys from shit. Now I just sound like a tit,” Lucy sniffles her way through another small cry.

Mickey is quiet for a moment, a warmth of affection pooling through his chest the moment he looks at his daughter. He stands up and runs a hand through Yevgeny’s messy black hair, watching his son give a lazy alike grin back Mickey’s way, then he crouched in front of Lucy.

“Lucille Monica, I want you to look at me and look right fuckin’ now.” Lucy lifts her head to stare into Mickey’s eyes, her timid distress causing his heart to swell with emotion. “I don’t regret anything that led me here. And that is one thing I want you to always understand. Your dad, your brother, your mom, and /you/, my baby girl, you’re my whole fuckin’ heart. How Yevgeny got here, shit that happened before you two were born, it’s then, not now.”

“And not ever again, Lucy love, we promise you,” Ian states, his demeanor firm, but his eyes glassy.

“What he said. Look at me,” Mickey takes up his daughter’s hands into his own, giving them a tight squeeze. “You never have to be afraid to be you, Lucy Milkovich. You hear me? Don’t think there’s anything you can’t tell me, or any of us. You can love whoever you want to love, be whoever the fuck you wanna be, and if fuckheads mess with you over that then they’ll have me to deal with.”

“And me. And I’m taller,” Ian’s voice is a matter of fact. “We’re gonna work on the throat punch this weekend, by the way.”

“Thank you, Ian.” Mickey looks mildly annoyed for the briefest of moments, causing Yevgeny to kiss his sister on the forehead, backing up moments later.

“Don’t forget me. But right now I gotta get. Save me the Wheaties?” Yev motions to the cereal pile mounting next to Ian. He says his goodbyes before retreating back out the front door for work, Mickey just watching his miracle in disguise go. He would never regret Yev. Ever.

Ian must be thinking the same thing, Mickey figures, watching his husband watch their son go, turning back to Lucy now. “We deal with assholes who can’t accept who we are every single day, sweetheart. That’s always been how things are with some people. But what your dad and I can promise is that you don’t worry about that in this house, or worry about protecting us from it out there. You be you, and we’ve got you. No matter what.” Ian presses a feather light kiss to their daughter’s temple, Mickey practically bursting at the seams with love and pride for the giant fucker.

After everything, who would’ve thought they could pass on this much love and strength to their daughter when she revealed who she was. That she could be free just as much as Mickey himself was able to be now. He survived. He survived his father, those assholes on the outside. He survived prison, loosing his home. Loosing Ian. But now here Mickey stands. On his own two feet. A proud gay man with a hot ass husband that loved him back again, and looked at him like he invented lube and the stars. A son that held a steady part time job and a college career. And a daughter that cared about his feelings more than her own. Mickey sniffs to adjust his emotions from loosening too much.

Lucy is up this time, bending down and kissing Mickey on the cheek, her voice strong, chalked full of power, respect, love. She looks Mickey dead in the eye first, coordinating her gaze towards Ian too. “I’m proud of you. For not letting the shitheads win. For getting through what Terry did. I’m glad I’m yours.”

She leaves Mickey with that, a kiss to Ian’s cheek now too, tugging up her bag and bounding off to her room, poking her head out seconds later. “Oh, I invited my girl to dinner. Don’t embarrass me.”


End file.
